


Love, Anonymous

by Kris



Category: Blade (Movie Series)
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, Secret Admirer, Slash, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-08
Updated: 2009-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kris/pseuds/Kris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: presents left by the door, really kinky presents left by the door, for him. Hannibal didn't want to like, didn't want to want, all that the gifts implied.... BUT he so did</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Anonymous

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to Ash/Jack Vale for the beta

"Okay, ew," Abigail says. Hannibal looks over at her curiously. She's holding up a whip, with a bow.

"Dude, there's a bow on that whip. Is that a present? Who's it for?" Hannibal demands, fear making his insides clench. Blade's looking back and forth between the two of them, Sommerfield's scooting Zoe out of the room with a frown on her face that totally foretells of a lecture coming down on both Hannibal and Abigail about little pitchers or big ears or some variation thereof.

"It's for you." Abigail still has the ew look on her face and she's holding the whip out by two fingers as far away from her as she can. Hannibal takes it from her and sure enough, there's a card on the bow with his name in harsh scripted letters.

"I thought this hideout was secret," Blade comments. "How's this place secret if dumbass here is getting gifts from a secret admirer?" Abigail opens her mouth but Hannibal beats her to it.

"You know what, Blade, that's an excellent question, in fact, I'm going to harass someone about that right now," he spins on his heel and walks out of the room with the whip still in hand, brain working to figure out who the hell left him the whip. He goes to his room, carefully locks the door and puts the whip on the bed. He pulls a box out from under the bed, dark cherry wood, hand carved, etched with a wolf symbol on the front and licks his lips nervously.

The whip isn't the first gift he's been given. It's just the first that he hasn't found before anyone else did and he wonders if his admirer did it on purpose, set it up so that Abigail would see it and question it. Making it harder for Hannibal to avoid answering the question on the back of the card. 'Are you mine?' The same question on the whip, the same question on the box, on the plug, on the leather collar and the light gold chains. Each arriving a week after the last.

He coils the whip into the box and pushes the box back under the bed. He's not sure what he is. He's never wanted anything like this before. His sex life is the exact opposite of his reality, completely vanilla, but the gifts are making him think thoughts that make him uncomfortable, uncertain. Every night last week he dreamed, simple, normal everyday dreams, but in every dream he was wearing the collar, and just knowing it's under his bed is making it hard to resist slipping it on. The shit is hitting the fan though, so even if he wants to, the Nightstalkers are too freaking busy with the seedy underbelly of the world and the fact that Dracula's been brought back from the dead for Hannibal to let his mind wander to the box of toys under his bed.

And then he gets the wrist cuffs. Blade finds them this time, and he throws the package at Hannibal's head when he walks into the kitchen. "Don't know who'd want you this badly," Blade mutters and shakes his head. Hannibal stares at the cuffs, heavy leather that matches the collar in the box, no markings on them, just a card with his name scrawled on one side and 'are you mine?' on the back.

"Never can tell with some people, huh?" Hannibal asks and slips the cuffs on experimentally. They feel nice, like they mould to his wrists, giving support and strength. Later he decides that even if he had known that it was Drake who was sending him these gifts, he probably wouldn't have cared anyway after he got the wrist cuffs. But until then, he pretends that putting them on doesn't really mean he belongs to anyone.

/end


End file.
